


One of the good ones (I feel it)

by spiteandmalice



Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, M/M, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiteandmalice/pseuds/spiteandmalice
Summary: Stensland has fallen in love, at first sight, many, many times.Clyde Logan was not one of these times.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Stensland (Crash Pad)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 121
Collections: Kylux Fanworks Secret Santa 2019





	One of the good ones (I feel it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmelyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/gifts).



> Written for the lovely and talented [callmelyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/pseuds/callmelyss)! 
> 
> I really hope you like it because I appreciate all the positivity you bring to the fandom.

**1 -**

Stensland has fallen in love, at first sight, many, many times. 

Jenny O’Brien when he was 14, Cian McCarthy when he was 17. Morgan, which still hurt if he was honest with himself. Half a dozen other people that flitted in and out of his life, dragging bits of his heart away with them. 

Clyde Logan was not one of these times. 

Stensland walked into the Duck Tape and hadn't even noticed him at first. When he did he didn't hear the chorus of angels, the tell-tale fluttering in his stomach, the clench around his heart like Cupid’s arrow had just struck him.

(When asked much later, Clyde would rub the back of his neck and admit he was besotted from the moment he’d looked up and seen Stensland.)

Stensland had seen another bartender first: female, hot, with long glittery nails that remind Stensland of Christmas decorations, or icicles perhaps. Neither of which were an issue in the muggy July weather in West Virginia. 

“What can I get you, hon?” the bartender asks as he climbs onto a bar stool.

“A cosmo?”

The bartender’s pleasant customer service face breaks into a genuine grin.

“A man of taste! That’s my favorite. One cosmo, coming right up.”

Stensland watches the fans lazily spin above the bar while the bartender makes his drink. 

There’s another bartender at the other end of the bar, restocking glasses and Stensland gives him a sneaky once over. He’s tall, with long dark hair, and his face is handsome, though his expression is overly serious for glass stacking in Stensland’s opinion. The man looks up, looks slightly shocked to see Stensland staring at him and Stensland quickly looks away, remembering too late that he’s in a random bar in West Virginia, not a gay club in Seattle.

“One cosmo.” 

Stensland takes a deep drink, then sighs happily. 

“I just love how it’s sweet and sour. And pink! And gets you wasted.”

The bartender raises the glass of water she has behind the bar. “Amen to that.”

Another patron calls out to pay his tab and shortly after the bartender is back, long nails tapping on the bar top.

“So why are you here, Red? Never seen you around before.”

“I’m running away from my problems.”

She grins widely and Stensland is slightly worried, it’s like she’s scented blood and is going in for the kill. 

“Tell me  _ all _ .”

“I don’t know you. I’d feel weird telling you the sordid details of my love life, all the nooks and proverbial crannies of it.”

The bartender stretches her hand out over the bar counter. 

“I’m Mellie Logan.”

“Stensland.”

“Now we’re all acquainted, spill the beans.”

Stenslandtakes a fortifying sip of his drink. 

“Uh, I slept with a married woman, but didn’t know she was married until  _ after  _ I fell for her, like, fell  _ hard,  _ then her husband forced his way into my life  _ and  _ apartment then tried to teach me how to ‘be a man’-” he made air quotes with his fingers at that “-and it didn’t work out. Any of it.”

“...wow.”

“So I’ve left Seattle, struck my way out West. Then my car broke down right outside here, I think the universe thought ‘Stens, it’s time for a drink’.”

“I can take a look if you want? I’m pretty handy around cars.” 

“That’d be  _ amazing _ . You’re an angel.”

“Who’s an angel?” a deep voice queries. 

It’s the other bartender. Up close his eyes are as dark as his hair, and slightly sad. Stensland drags his gaze away and back to Mellie.

Mellie grins at them both. “I may be. I’m gonna go look at this guy’s car.” 

Stensland digs out his keys, and she vanishes with a wink.

He vaguely wonders if this is a grift, if she’s going to vanish with his car. He shrugs, sips his cosmo. If she can get that heap of junk running, she’d deserve to steal it.

He’s on his third drink when she comes back in, a triumphant grin on her face. 

“Your battery was flat. I jumped it off my car. Easy peasy, all fixed.” she chucks his keys at him, and he barely catches them.

“You  _ are  _ an angel. May I buy the lady a drink?”

“A glass of wine will do nicely, thanks doll.” she pulls a bottle out from a chiller, opens it and pours herself a glass. 

He raises his glass to her and she returns the gesture. 

The other bartender rolls his eyes at her and she flips him off with her empty hand.

“Won’t he be cross that you’re not serving drinks?” Stensland inquires.

She laughs. 

“I don’t even work here. It’s Clyde’s bar. He was short-staffed for the after-work rush, but that’s finished and now you’re here to entertain me. So tell me more about that married couple.” 

"There’s not much to tell, except it ended badly, for me. So I've a new rule in my life: I only have sex with people I love."

“How's that's workin' out for you?”

“It’s only been a policy for um, a month now. But it’s working out well. No heartbreak here!”

Mellie laughs at him again and he laughs back. It’s been two and half thousand miles, he’s pretty sure that’s a nice amount of distance to put between himself, Morgan and Grady. He’s healing. He’s a majestic eagle, they don’t sit around getting sad, they soar. Everyone knows that.

Mellie goes to the restroom when Stensland points out a smear of car grease still on her wrist and he’s just about to order another drink when he overhears the two men next to him, sniggering to themselves.

“Bet Mellie’ll take him for a ride later, ya know what I mean? You know how girls get for an Irish accent.” The man chuckles to his companion, nudging him in the ribs to get him to laugh along.

Stensland has had just enough alcohol to think things might end well for him so he spins around on his barstool and asks “I beg your pardon?”

The man turns to look at Stensland, a quick glance and then he’s turning away, dismissing him. “Keep to your own business.”

“No!”

The man swings for Stensland and somehow misses.

Before he can swing again, all six foot something of Clyde is in the way, blocking him. Stensland doesn’t  _ quite  _ hide behind him, but yeah, okay, maybe he hides a little. 

The man still has his fists raised and Clyde raises both his hands, palms open in the universal gesture of peace and goodwill. Stensland notices his left hand for the first time, black, sleek and robotic. 

“There ain’t no violence here, Larry, you know this.” Clyde says, nice and calmly, as if he’s trying to tame a wild horse. 

“This guy’s come here, he’s causin’ trouble!” the man spits out.

“From where I was standin’, he was merely havin’ a drink and you swung for him. That seems to me like you’re causing all the trouble, Larry.”

“He insulted Mellie! He was being a right creep!” Stensland blurts out.

“This true?” 

Larry bared his teeth at Stensland before turning back to Clyde. “Yeah, so what? Was just a joke between friends.”

Mellie’s been watching this from the side of the bar and she shakes her head. “Larry, you never learnt to keep your mouth shut, did you.”

“I didn’t mean nothing by it Mel-”

“Just get the fuck outta here Larry. Go.”

He leaves, with his two companions. 

The bar is still quiet, all eyes still on the group

“I’ll go as well?” Stensland offers.

Mellie reaches for her glass of wine. “Sit. Drink.”

Stensland sits, picks his drink up again.

“Where you heading after tonight, Stensland?”

“I’ve a cousin in Richmond, he said I could stay with him for a while. I have no plans… I have no future.”

“What did you do in Seattle?”

“Besides be a romantic fuck up? Worked in a Soft Solutions.”

Mellie’s eyes light up. “There’s a new Furniture World just opened across town. I bet they’d hire you.”

**2 -**

Stensland never makes it to Richmond. He ends up the manager of recliners, ottomans and loveseats, which isn’t quite as good as being the manager of the armchair or sofa sections, but it’s a quiet store, and he gets to test the recliners for comfort and sometimes they let him nap. Or else they don’t know he’s fallen asleep, but he likes to think it shows a level of realism for the comfort they provide that customers might appreciate. 

It becomes a routine to go to the Duck Tape every Wednesday and keep Clyde company, it’s the quietest night so they play pool between serving, chat about nothing in particular for hours. 

Stensland has to open the store on Thursday mornings so he sips soda and tells Clyde about his family, movies he’s watched, news snippets he’s read online. Clyde tells him the stupid things the Logan siblings got up to as kids, what meals his grandmother used to cook for their birthdays, bits of local history. 

They visit local historical sites, go to the fairs, corn mazes, even hiking once (but only once). Clyde helps Stensland move into an apartment across town, drives him to IKEA in his brother’s pick up. 

They’re not dating, but they’re also not-not dating? When Stensland’s work colleague asks him about Clyde (who’d dropped lunch off for Stensland because he’d forgotten to bring any- again- a sandwich and a strawberry milk) he doesn’t know how to describe him. Friend? Best friend?

Regardless of the description, Stensland is pretty sure he’s 75% of the way in love with Clyde when he clocks out of work on a particular Tuesday and heads to the Duck Tape. 

Clyde looks curiously at him when he pushes through the door of the bar.

“Why are you here?”

Stensland frowns and sniffs. “Nice to see you too.”

“I meant, why are you  _ here  _ on a Tuesday? I’m always happy to see you.”

“It’s my birthday! And I’d rather be here than anywhere else. I can drink tonight, I’ve tomorrow booked off, I intend on watching movies, baking  _ and  _ getting baked.”

“You never said it was your birthday.” 

“Yeah well, you never told me your middle name was Jefferson.”

“It was my grandpa’s name. Also, did Mellie tell you that?”

“Can’t reveal my source.”

“Hmm, if you did I could make it worth your while, y’know...”

Stensland coughs a little at that. “Um.”

_ He doesn’t mean it that way he doesn’t mean it that way- _

“...I have a horrific neon pink hat left over from a bachelorette you can have.”

_ Yep, he didn’t mean it. _

“I’ll trade you. It  _ was  _ Mellie.”

Some of the regulars buy Stensland shots, and Clyde plays pool with him despite the bar being reasonably busy. Stensland often loses, but tonight he plays terribly, but he doesn't care. He bumps his hip into Clyde when he sets up a shot and the ball misses the pocket by miles but Clyde laughs it off and pulls Stensland in for a hug. 

Stensland aches to tug him into a kiss. Perhaps he could pretend it was an Irish tradition, for good luck on a birthday.

The Duck Tape is a weird place at 2am when empty and silent, and when Clyde turns the main lights out and pushes Stensland out the main door to lock it behind them, Stensland clings to Clyde’s arm so he doesn’t fall over the chairs set up for smokers.

There’s not much of a moon tonight, there’s only the neon Corrs Light sign, lighting Clyde’s dark hair with bright streaks while he slides on the security bolt.

Door locked, Clyde takes Stensland’s arm to walk him down the stairs to the parking lot. 

“Did you have a good birthday?”

“Yep, that’s all thanks to you.”

Stensland wobbles a little, so he leans into Clyde, grasping the front of his shirt, presses his head to Clyde’s chest and Clyde tentatively puts his arms around him. They’re nearly the same height but somehow Stensland feels cocooned, safe, so rubs his face against the soft, worn shirt. 

“What do you want for a present, Stens?”

He inhales Clyde’s scent, presses his nose tight to Clyde’s chest. The scent is familiar to him now, Clyde smells comforting, like  _ home,  _ despite the slightly sour smell of spilt beer underneath from the evening’s work.

“I want you.”

He feels Clyde take in a sharp breath at that and he snuggles closer. Silly Clyde. Wasn’t it obvious how Stensland felt?

“Can I kiss you?” Clyde whispers, as if he’s worried Stensland would say no if he spoke it out loud.

Stensland nods, and tilts his face up to Clyde’s. It’s a soft, chaste kiss; a simple, gentle brush of Clyde’s lips and Stensland sighs into it, digs his fingers into Clyde’s arm and leans into the kiss, tries to deepen it. 

Clyde pulls back. He’s got a slight flush across his cheeks, barely visible under the orange sodium lights of the parking lot. 

“I’d like to take you out on a date.”

Stensland blinks. “A date?”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee?” he echoes.

Clyde’s brow wrinkles. “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay?” 

Stensland nods, and tries to ignore how the movement makes the entire world tilt. 

“Coffee. You, me. Date. Got it.”

“I’ll pick you up around 11?”

“Coffee. 11.”

**3 -**

When Stensland wakes up it’s to someone knocking on his door. He yawns, kicks the duvet off and goes to answer it. 

Clyde’s standing there, holding a tiny succulent in a bright red pot. It looks slightly ridiculous, his huge hands cradling such a small pot. 

“Morn-”

Clyde stops speaking and looks down. 

Stensland follows his gaze.

S _ hite _ . 

He’d gotten warm during the night and taken all his clothes off. He carefully places a hand over his junk, then strolls away as if this was completely normal. 

“I’m gonna. I’m gonna get dressed. Make yourself at home.”

In his bedroom he kicks over the pile of clothes he’d taken off in the night, stomps up and down his bedroom until he finds some clean clothing under a blanket.

He dresses, cursing to himself the entire time. 

Clyde is standing in the middle of his living room, holding that damn plant. 

“Uh, all your chairs are covered in...stuff.”

Stensland scrubs at his eyes, looks around. Okay, it’d been a while since he’d cleaned. The sofa had empty chip packets on it, amongst them a slice of pepperoni pizza, the armchair had his bong and four socks, none of which matched, but all of which Stensland was sure were clean. Mostly sure.

He picks the pizza up and contemplates it for a second before throwing it into the trash. He brushes the chip packets onto the floor and then bows to Clyde. 

“ _ Mi casa es tu casa _ , etc. etc.”

Clyde proffers the plant and Stensland takes it. Clyde gingerly sits on the now clear spot where the pizza had lived. 

Stensland pours some water onto the plant, places it on the windowsill.

“So, why are you here? Did I want a plant for my birthday?”

Clyde looks like Stensland had just told him a sad story about a puppy, his eyes are wide, mouth downturned. 

“I thought we had a date?”

“A date? You? Me?”

Clyde nods, drops his gaze to the floor and says softly, almost to himself. “We were going to have coffee.”

Stensland would remember if Clyde had offered a date, he’s sure of it. All he’s wanted for weeks is for Clyde to see him. He’s right there! He’s interested! Single! Ready to mingle!

Stensland sits on the edge of his coffee table. Huh. Clyde fiddles with the hem of his shirt and suddenly it hits Stensland. The  _ kiss _ . The offered date. 

“Oh  _ that  _ coffee. Oh yes. Yes please.”

Clyde’s gives him a lopsided grin then, eyes crinkling and Stensland grins back. 

The coffee shop isn’t a chain, just a few rickety tables and two dozen chairs that don’t match but the whole place smells like they’ve just roasted a batch of beans.

Stensland inhales deeply as they walk up to the counter. 

“Everytime I walk in here I think I’m back in Seattle. In Seattle, you can’t move without walking into a coffee shop.” 

They order their drinks and Clyde pulls a chair out for Stensland to sit on, grabs three little packets of sugar and a spoon for him. 

“Do you miss Seattle?”

“I thought I would, but I prefer it here.” 

Clyde grins at that and Stensland thinks at him  _ “Because you’re here” _ willing previously latent psychic powers to suddenly manifest. Maybe one day he’ll say it out loud. 

They’ve had coffee plenty of time together before, but it’s different today The conversation is stilted and when their hands accidentally touch when reaching for their mugs and they both awkwardly laugh before drifting back into silence.

Stensland drains his mug and takes a deep breath.

“Look, you know me, right? I’m Awkward with a capital A. I laugh at weird moments and I have no sense of personal space. But I want this to work. Tell me what I need to do to make this work.”

Clyde sips his coffee slowly, thinking, then puts the cup on the table gently. 

“I don’t want anything to change between us. Just maybe, add in some kissing? Holding hands?”

Stensland reaches across, takes Clyde’s prosthetic in his own hand, weaves their fingers together, the hard fingers clicking on the table surface. 

“Absolutely. I can do that.”

The date goes better after that, the tension broken and Stensland feels like he’s in a weird, amazing alternative universe where his face hurts from smiling and he gets to hold Clyde’s hand. 

On the way to Stensland’s apartment, they drive past the out-crop that overlooks the entire town, a roughly paved parking lot with a few picnic benches scattered.

Stensland puts his hand over his heart and pretends to be shocked.

“Is this a makeout point?”

Clyde flushes. “No, it’s a viewpoint. I thought I could show you the view.”

Stensland pokes Clyde in the side. “I was only messing. Show me so.”

It’s pretty up here, lights twinkling below. Stensland can’t pick out any landmarks but Clyde can, he points out the vague location of the Duck Hut, where he grew up, even his high school: the football pitch a bright rectangle of lights easily visible even from so far away. 

“Did you bring people here in high school?”

“Nope, never really dated. Jimmy was the popular one, I was always Jimmy’s kid brother.”

Stensland touches Clyde’s thigh gently. “We could make up for lost time?”

Eventually, Clyde murmurs against Stensland’s mouth “Shall we move this to the back seat?” when it becomes awkward to stretch across and kiss.

Stensland starts to climb between the small gap between the seats, leg kicking the manual gear shift out of gear and he prays the handbrake is on.

The backdoor opens and Clyde slides in, having taking the far more sensible option of opening the door.

Stensland has lost a shoe by the time he gets his long legs into the backseat, but Clyde’s there, hands warm and steady holding him up and then they’re kissing again and Stensland doesn’t give a damn about the missing shoe or the awkward position. 

Necking in the backseat of a car is one of those things that seems like a really romantic idea until the logistics of moving two adult men into a very small space becomes a harsh reality. 

Clyde puts one hand on Stensland’s head to protect him from the low roof when he moves to straddle Clyde’s lap and it’s a simple gesture but it makes Stenland’s heart clench. Clyde’s legs are bent at an angle that can’t be comfortable but he holds Stensland up, lets him shift his weight until it’s comfortable, then start kissing him again. 

Clyde clings to Stensland he’s something precious, peppering kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise under the edge of his collar. 

It’s not long until the kissing becomes a prelude to something, and Stensland is painfully aware how hard he is in his unforgiving jeans, and when he grinds down he finds Clyde in a similar state. 

Clyde gives a low grunt that hits Stensland low in his stomach and Stensland is  _ this  _ close to ignoring his mantra of ‘no sex until True Love’ because dammit, who needed love when he had Clyde underneath him, panting and so sweet and willing. 

Stensland wriggles off Clyde’s lap, and flops down on the seat next to him. In the dim light he can tell Clyde’s face is flushed, his mouth wet and swollen from kissing and it takes more willpower than Stensland knew he had not to climb back onto his lap. 

“Can you take me home now, please? I can’t keep going because of y’know, the rule I have.”

“Sure.”

Clyde passes Stensland his lost shoe and gets out of the backseat to re-enter at the driver’s seat.

Stensland takes a second to collect himself before climbing back into the passenger seat. He’s proud of himself for sticking to his principles. He’s going to wake at 2am and curse himself soundly, but right now he’s cool, calm and collected. Completely chill. Not affected at all. Nope.

When they reach Stensland’s apartment parking lot Clyde kisses him goodbye, and Stensland pulls away as quickly as he can before he does something stupid. He’s chill. He can do this!

“Can I take you out again, Stensland?”

“Just try and stop me!” Stensland laughs nervously. “I mean that in a fun, light-hearted way, not in a ‘I’ll end up outside your house at 2am’ way.”

“I know. Goodnight, darlin’. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.” Stensland echoes. 

Stensland’s barely inside his apartment before he’s shoving his jeans down, fisting his cock desperately. 

If he imagines hard enough he can still taste Clyde’s kisses still clinging to his lips, how his stubble felt against his throat. 

Being chill is overrated.

**4 -**

Today’s been an absolute shit show. 

Someone put a complaint into Stensland’s manager that he sold them a defective ottoman. Stensland would  _ never _ . They’d left with the classic “I’m never buying anything here again.” Good riddance, Stensland thought. His manager thought otherwise. 

Then his mam rings and bollocks him for not coming home for Christmas. He vaguely recalls telling her that this would be the year he’d visit, but with the move from Seattle he’s a bit short on cash and he’s got no vacation time so he had to endure her wrath until she finally hung up. 

So he’s doing what he does best when upset: getting absolutely baked and not moving for a few hours. 

There’s someone knocking on his door, a  _ thud thud thud _ that reflects the banging in his head. 

The door opens eventually, and of course, it’s Clyde, Stensland’s spare key in his hand. He coughs slightly as the wall of smoke wafts towards him with the influx of fresh air from the door. 

“I tried callin’ but there was no answer.”

Stensland shrugs. He’s not even sure where his phone is.

Clyde carefully takes the bong from Stensland, places it on the coffee table. 

“What’s wrong?”

Stensland shrugs again. 

“Okay, let’s try an easier question: when’s the last time you ate?”

Stensland gestures to the pile of chip wrappers on the floor, reaches for the bong again.

Clyde picks it up, holds it too high for Stensland to reach. 

“You know I’m fine with you having a smoke, but you look miserable as hell. Talk to me. Please.”

Stensland picks up a cushion, hugs it to his chest. 

“I had a bad day at work. Then my mam yelled at me. Three thousand miles away and she still knows how to upset me.” 

Clyde puts the bong back down, sits on the couch and reaches for Stensland, pulls him into a hug. 

“Let’s go out for food.”

“I don’t want to move. Let me just perish here amongst the debris of my life.”

Stensland sniffs, presses his face to Clyde’s shoulder. He won’t cry. He won’t.

Clyde pets Stenland’s hair, fingers scritching along his scalp. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” 

“I’m gonna lie down on you now. Rooms a bit, y’know, spinny.”

“I’ll order in- noodles or somethin’. Dumplings.”

“Lots of dumplings.”

“Lots of dumplings.” Clyde agrees. 

Clyde smells like fresh laundry and shower gel like he’d just showered before he came over, and his jeans are soft against Stensland’s face. He scrunches his eyes shut as the room spins a little but then Clyde’s scratching along his scalp again, down the back of his neck and Stensland starts to cry. He misses his family, he feels sick, and he doesn’t deserve Clyde looking after him like this.

Clyde passes him a crumpled tissue from the coffee table and he blows his nose hard, trying not to get snot on Clyde’s jeans. 

“Sorry.” He tries to stop crying, body heaving with the effort of trying to hold the tears back. 

“My therapist says.” Clyde clears his throat and starts again. “My therapist says that sometimes crying is just another way your body expresses pain. So I think if you need to cry, go on and cry.”

“My face is all blotchy though now. And my eyes will go all red and wild.”

“Hate to break it to you darlin’, but you were already lookin’ a little wild after all that pot.”

Stensland sniffs, blows his nose again. 

“Fair enough.”

Clyde passes him another tissue and lets his hand drift through Stensland’s hair again, brushing it off his forehead. It reminds Stensland a little of his mam looking after him when he was ill. His mam loved him, that’s why she was angry he hadn’t visited in years. He shouldn’t have promised her he’d come home.

“Next Christmas, do you want to come back to Ireland with me?”

“I’d like that. Never been to Ireland.”

“It’s very nice. And has about fifty of my family members, all of which will want to meet you.”

“Are they all like you?”

“Yep.”

Clyde laughs at that. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, order the food and then I’m going to need you to tell me all about your family if I’m gonna meet them.”

  
  


When Stensland wakes up the room is chilly, window flung open, but he’s snug under a blanket. Clyde’s in the little kitchenette holding two bags of takeout and Stensland yawns, jaw popping. 

“Feel any better Stens?” 

“Heads pounding, but yeah, I feel alive. What did you order in the end?”

“Sweet and sour pork, honey chicken, a fried rice, a fried noodle, two portions of dumplings, extra sauce. Stay there, I’ll bring it over to you.”

Perfection. Breakfast in bed of sorts, despite it being 5pm, on a sofa and Chinese takeout. 

Stensland offers Clyde some blanket and he slides under it, balancing two plates.

Clyde’s given Stensland most of the dumplings and puts on Netflix, loading some terrible made for Netflix romantic movie that Stensland had on his ‘To Watch’ list. He drinks the beer Stensland had bought for him, and makes Stensland a cup of tea. They make out a little bit, trading lazy kisses, until Clyde’s hands span most of Stensland’s thighs, thumbs rubbing the seam of his jeans, unmistakable intent.

“Shirt, off. Off.” Stensland gasps, tugging his own off.

Clyde’s pulls his shirt over his head and Stensland stifles a gasp. Partly because woah, Clyde was half-naked, buff and  _ right there  _ in Stensland’s living room, but also for the scattering of scar tissue across his body.

Clyde follows Stensland’s gaze and correctly guesses what he’s looking at. “IED fragments.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s done. I was lucky, I survived. Half the squad didn’t.”

Stensland hugs Clyde, skin against skin and he realises he doesn’t want to keep making out, but to comfort him, reassure him. To simply be there for him. He knows Clyde’s therapist is happy Stensland is in his life, that he’s got someone outside his family that takes him at face value. 

Stensland kisses Clyde softly. “Shall we go to sleep? I want to spoon you.”

Clyde picks his shirt up again, slides it back on. “I’d like that.”

**5 -**

The doorbell rings and Clyde takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly through his nose before opening the door and letting the two people outside in.

Stensland has seen Clyde go toe to toe with belligerent drunks and not blink, even fight off an angry raccoon that got cornered when he was taking out the trash, but he’s never seen him as nervous as he is now. 

Clyde gestures at the pair in the doorway.

“This is my brother Jimmy, and Sadie, his kid.”

Jimmy’s got Clyde’s easy smile but his eyes are hard when he turns to look at Stens. Stensland suddenly feels like he’s not measuring up whatsoever. Jimmy shakes Stensland’s hand and his grip nearly brings tears to Stensland’s eyes. 

Stensland then puts his hand out for Sadie who gives him a withering glare. Surely children weren’t allowed to glare at adults like that? Shouldn’t there be a law against it?

“I’m just gonna go out back and check on the grill.” Clyde says and Stensland turns to follow but Jimmy grabs his elbow. 

“Just gonna chat with Mister Stensland here for a moment. We’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” 

“Don’t be harassin’ him.”

“It’s just a chat, Clyde. Just a quick word, all friendly-like.”

Clyde looks doubtful but escapes outside anyway.  _ Traitor _ . 

Jimmy’s smile vanishes as Clyde closes the door behind him.

“This, as you might have guessed, is the shovel talk. I don't know how you've snared him, but my brother cares deeply for people, too deeply sometimes, you understand? If you hurt him, I swear I will make your life  _ hell _ .” 

Sadie is nodding along to the threats, her small hands clenched in fists and Stensland is acutely aware that she's the perfect height to smash him in the balls if he hurts her Uncle Clyde. There’s a fire in her eyes that scares him.

“I don't want to hurt him. He's the best thing I've ever had in my life.”

Jimmy’s eyes soften slightly. 

“Well. Just a friendly warning, okay? People think he's some kinda quiet, big ass teddy bear. He's done two tours of Iraq and been to jail. He’s got edges, trauma, he just hides it well, he doesn’t want to be a burden.”

“Did he tell you how we met? I was in the bar, just passing by and some guys were being arseholes, saying some shite about Mellie and I tried to punch one of them and Clyde intervened.”

Dad and daughter both let out identical snorts, the tension in the room dissipating.

“I appreciate you lookin' out for her, but Mellie's the scariest one in that bar. But be good to Clyde, he hasn't had much goodness in his life in a long while. He deserves it.” 

Stensland nods. “He really does.”

Jimmy claps Stensland on the arm.

“Also don’t fucking swear in front of my daughter. Now that we're all squared up here, wanna grab a beer?”

“Daaaad, it's noon. And you have me until 6.” Sadie pipes up.

Jimmy sighs and opens the back door. “We’re going out Clyde!” he shouts. 

Clyde sticks his head in. 

“Y’all are going?”

Jimmy takes Stensland’s elbow again, starts to march him towards the front door. “Yup, interrogation part two. We’ll be back by the time the food is ready.”

Timmy's Dairy Parlour immediately becomes Stens' second favourite place in town, after Clyde's house. It’s exactly what he imagined an ice-cream parlour would look like as a kid, red and white stripy booths, a chequered tile floor. There’s too much choice, at least 30 flavours stretch along the room under a gleaming glass counter.

Stensland reads some of the labels out loud. 

“I’ve had my fair share of ice-cream but what’s butter pecan? Birthday cake? Black walnut? Black walnut’s what my mam’s coffee table’s made out of.”

“You’ve never had butter pecan? This has gotta change. Timmy, can I have a scoop of butter pecan, one of birthday cake and one of black walnut please for my friend here, and I’ll have two butter pecan, one rum ‘n’ raisin.”

The man behind the counter nods, and leans over the glass case to Sadie. “What’ll it be, miss?”

“I’ll have two scoops of fudge, heavy on the marshmallow topping, one of-”

“She’ll have a single fudge, with marshmallows.” Jimmy interrupts. 

Sadie bares her teeth at her father and Stensland is briefly scared of her again.

They slide into a booth, Jimmy and Sadie on one side and Stensland on the other side. It feels a little bit like it could become another interrogation, the two of them staring across at him until Sadie breaks the silence with a muttered: “I wanted three scoops too.”

Jimmy sighs, like he’d expected this. “We’re adults, Sadie. If that means we eat three scoops of ice-cream and ruin our appetites, we get that choice. You don’t.”

Timmy thankfully interrupts whatever Sadie’s retort was going to be by placing the ice-creams on the table and for a few moments, there’s blissful silence while they devour their treats.

Stensland moans around his spoon. “What even  _ is  _ butter pecan? It needs to come to Ireland, by god we’re missing out.”

Jimmy nods in agreement. 

“Are you thinking of heading back in the future? To Ireland?”

Stensland shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been gone so long now, I moved over here straight out of school. I like the weather here, the people are friendly, and now there’s Clyde.”

Sadie carefully balances her spoon on the edge of her dish and steeples her hands in front of her on the formica table. 

“I need to know something Mister Stensland.” she begins, voice solemn.

“Um, okay.”

“If you get married to Uncle Clyde, can I be a bridesmaid?”

Stensland chokes on his mouthful of icecream. “Yes? Of course?”

Sadie picks her spoon up again, digs a spoon of marshmallows out. “Okay. You’re allowed date Uncle Clyde now.”

“Thanks?”

Jimmy’s laughing into his own icecream and Stensland laughs too. His heart feels lighter somehow getting acceptance from Sadie and Jimmy and he knows Clyde’s probably worrying himself sick at home, waiting for them to come back. 

_ At home.  _ That gives him a warm feeling, having somewhere that welcomes him that’s an actual home, not just four walls where he can light up in peace.

“I’m going to bring Clyde back some pie.” Stensland decides.

“He likes-”

“Blueberry. I know.”

Jimmy grins. “Good, we couldn’t have him dating someone that’d give him apple pie instead.” 

When they arrive back at the house Clyde and Mellie are in the living room, legs stretched out on either side of the couch, beer bottles in hand and Sadie promptly jumps onto Clyde’s calves, causing him to grunt. He grabs her by the waist and spins her up in the air while she shrieks.

“Careful, she’s had icecream.” Jimmy warns.

“I slave over a hot grill for five hours and y’all go out for icecream.” Clyde pouts and places Sadie back on the ground who immediately runs to Mellie for a cuddle. 

Stensland hands over the box he’d carefully held on his lap the entire journey back. “I brought you blueberry pie.”

Clyde leans in and kisses Stensland, a quick peck of lips and Sadie claps her hands together, delighted.

“I’m going to be your bridesmaid!”

Clyde freezes, blinks rapidly. 

“Pardon?”

Stensland wants the ground to open up and swallow him. “I promised Sadie she could be a bridesmaid if we uh, get married.”

Mellie stifles a laugh and Clyde seems to shake himself off. 

“Oh, of course. We’d have two bridesmaids, you and Mellie, and you could get matching dresses?”

“Of course!” Mellie agrees and that seems to satisfy Sadie who goes to the kitchen to pour herself some milk. 

Jimmy’s been watching the whole situation with that half-grin of his that Stensland thinks means he’s happy. He goes to the kitchen cupboards, starts laying plates on the table. “Let’s get some ribs then.”

Despite the three scoops of ice-cream Stensland manages to put away more ribs than he’d planned to. 

It’s still a little unnerving for Stensland to be sitting with people who are so in-tune with each other; Mellie passes Jimmy the potato salad without him asking, and Jimmy passes another bottle of beer to Clyde just as he finishes one, popping the cap for him.

They chat about mundane things: a client of Mellie’s who’d decided to dye her hair bright pink at age 93 and Sadie tells them the plot of a book she’s just read for a book report.

Then Jimmy complains about the plumbing in his new house and Mellie offers the number of her plumber that just finished her bathroom. 

“Oh, you bought a new house too?” Stensland says without thinking, reaching for the coleslaw.

The siblings exchange significant glances and the table falls silent. 

Stensland stops scooping coleslaw. He’s not the best at picking up signals but this is a clear red:  _ Danger danger Will Robinson! _

“Did I say something wrong?”

Mellie forces out a laugh, and Stensland realises it’s her fake customer service laugh. “No of course not, sweetheart. We all came into a bit of money recently, that’s all.” 

Stensland wants to ask how, or where from but Clyde’s staring across at him and he doesn’t have to turn his head to know Jimmy’s doing the same on his other side. He digs his fork into the coleslaw, pretends to be fascinated by it until the chat starts up around the table again.

Jimmy, Mellie and Sadie leave at 5 laden down with leftovers and Stensland cleans up the kitchen while Clyde scrubs the grill down outside. 

He lies down on Clyde’s bed to take a nap and only wakes when he hears Clyde’s voice from the bedroom door. He’d have slept on the sofa but Clyde’s sofa was terrible: hollow-fill cushion, not foam. Ugh. Amateurs.

“You awake?”

Stensland yawns. “I am now. Lie down with me a while.” Clyde doesn’t have to be at the bar until 8, so they’ve got time to relax. He digs his phone out of his pocket, sets an alarm and nearly drops his phone on his face when Clyde shucks his t-shirt and drops it to the ground. 

“I stink of cleaning products, sorry.” Clyde offers as an apology as he climbs onto the bed. 

“Apology more than accepted.” Stensland yawns again and curls up to him, places a hand on his waist, safe territory. 

Clyde kisses him on the temple. “Go back to sleep.”

“Uh huh.”

He’s about to fall asleep when his hand moves involuntarily, brushing Clyde’s abs, drifting down to his belt buckle and suddenly he’s a lot more awake. Naturally, he says the first thing that comes to mind to distract himself from that fact his hand is clearly possessed and trying to get in Clyde’s pants. 

“Jimmy said you’d gone to jail.”

“Uh. Yeah. 90 days.”

“I’m guessing you’re not a cat burglar or assassin or something. Liquor license issue?”

“I drove my car into the gas station.”

There's a beat where Stensland takes this in.

“Oh. That's reasonable, some gas stations have very high prices for snacks. A man might need some chips and dip at midnight and where else is he to go?”

Clyde hums in response and Stensland starts to drift off again before murmuring. “For a second there I thought you were gonna say you robbed a bank or something.”

Cylde’s whole body goes rigid next to him and Stensland thinks  _ ‘great, now look what you’ve done, you’ve upset your bank-robbing boyfriend’. _

Stensland is fully awake now. “It’s okay if you robbed a bank, seriously, so long the FBI aren’t going to turn up and take you away.”

“I didn’t rob a bank.” 

Stensland relaxes. 

“We robbed the Charlotte Speedway.” Clyde mumbles.

Immediately Sten sits up.

“How?? Who? How?”

The tips of Clyde’s ears are red, he turns his head on the pillow to let his hair fall into his eyes so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. “I’m not proud of it, but we needed to do it and y’know the money we took was a drop in the ocean for the speedway.”

“This is exciting! You did a HEIST! Like Ocean’s 8! Or Ocean’s 11! Or 12! Wait, how many of ye were there?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Stensland lies back down, scoots down the bed until Clyde puts his arm back around him.

“I won’t mention it again. But it’s still pretty cool.”

“Thanks?”

It’s three days later when Mellie walks into the bar and greets her two brothers that Stensland puts two and two together and gets three: the three Logan siblings. 

But it’s none of his business. He’d never tell.

  
  


**6 -**

The store’s barely been open twenty minutes when Stensland has a Sudden Realisation. 

He’s covering the sofas today, so he’s starting by plumping the headrests, placing the scatter cushions how his manager wants. 

Naturally, he’s daydreaming as he works, a familiar fantasy about being on a tropical beach, and instead of Billy Ocean serenading him, he thinks about sitting on the warm sand with Clyde. How much he wants Clyde to be happy and relaxed, to hold his hand and walk on the beach, to have him smile at Stensland, the way he does sometimes when he thinks he can’t see him like he’s amazed Stensland is there, how he held Stensland’s hand when he fell asleep the night before. 

He wants him there next to him on his fantasy beach because Stensland loves him.

“Shite.” he says outloud to the cushions. “Shiiiite.” 

He loves Clyde. He  _ loves  _ him. 

He sits down heavily on the nearest chair, wrinkling his hard work. 

“SHITE!” he shouts, the word echoing around the section.

He  _ loves  _ Clyde. 

Clyde’s working the next shift, but there’s a delivery so Stensland doesn’t see him until he gets home that night.

It’s almost 4am so Stensland has fallen asleep on the couch, lying in the scattered crumbs of what had been a tube of Pringles. 

When Clyde wakes him up, Stensland almost expects angelic choruses of angels to appear, to confirm that yes, this is True Love. Instead, when Clyde smiles down at him, he feels happy. Comfortable. Safe.

“I’ve something to tell you. It’s big news. I’m very nervous. Like, I’ve nervous-eaten a whole tube of Pringles. I don’t even like this flavour!”

Clyde waits patiently, eyes sparkling and amused. 

Stensland takes a massive breath and then blurts out “I love you!”

Clyde squeezes his hand, smiles soft and sweet. 

Stensland squeezes back. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, I know I’ve sorta ambushed you with this.”

He laughs awkwardly while Clyde shakes his head and Stensland feels his stomach flip, imagines Pringles dancing about in his guts. 

_ Clyde doesn’t feel the same way, they were going to break up now, maybe he’d been waiting for an opportunity like this- _

“Darlin’, I love you too. I’ve loved you for months.”

“Oh.” 

Huh. Love had always seemed difficult on-screen, a prize to be fought for and won. 

There had been no tears, no dramatics, no Dawson’s Creek worthy admission of feelings in the rain (Season two, episode two was the best example he could think of), just two men who love each other. 

Clyde flops down on the couch besides Stensland, reaches for the Pringles, finds it empty. 

“Told you I ate them all.” Stensland mutters. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

Stensland is suddenly hyper-aware of what he’d said to Mellie all those months ago. 

“I don’t think we should have sex tonight. I’m really tired.”

“There’s no rush. I’m tired too.”

Stensland stays awake until he hears Clyde’s breathing even out into soft snores. 

Stensland  _ loves  _ him.

And he’s loved in return.

  
  


**7 -**

Life gets in the way until a week later and Stensland walks into the Duck Tape on Wednesday to find Clyde waiting on the wrong side of the bar. Mellie gives him a little wave from behind the beer taps and Stensland waves back, confused. 

Clyde gets to his feet. “I’m taking the night off, we can go to mine, get takeout and watch something.”

They end up making out before they even turn the tv on, standing in the kitchen flicking through takeout menus.

Stensland presses Clyde against the fridge, knocking magnets onto the floor, scatters sloppy kisses down his neck.

“Take me to bed. Please.”

“You sure about this?”

“Ten hundred percent. Ten thousand percent.” 

“We don’t have to-”

“We do. Jesus christ, we absolutely have to.”

There’s more kissing and then Stensland is aware this is Really Happening, like full steam ahead,  _ choo choo _ , do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. 

However, there’s… logistics.

“How do you uh, wanna do this? Because I want you to fuck me. Like, I’ve given it a lot of thought, late at night in my own bed and I really, really want that.”

Clyde grins, reaches out and brushes Stensland’s hair behind his ears. “I’d like that too.”

“Okay, okay, great. Let’s do this.”

They stand there for a moment, their only point of contact Clyde’s fingers in Stenland’s hair and then Stensland goes for it, throws himself back into Clyde’s arms.

Clyde’s never been hesitant about touching Stensland, but he seems surer now, palming Stenland’s ass, grinding against him. 

“Bedroom.” Stensland manages to say between kisses and Clyde nods, grabs Stensland by his wrist and tugs him towards the bedroom.

One side is Stenland’s usual side: six empty water glasses, two phone chargers, three USB cables, scrunched receipts.

The other side is neat: alarm clock, bookmarked novel, one phone charger with the cable coiled.

It’s  _ their  _ bed. 

Stensland feels a bit foolish that he’s somehow mostly moved into Clyde’s house and never realised it. 

It's not quite the poetic, love-making of a romance novel where stars burst behind their eyes and angels gently weep from the heavens, but it's different to anything Stensland has experienced before. 

They  _ know  _ each other, know how to twist and turn their bodies, how to kiss and touch, that Clyde has sensitive ears, that Stensland squirms when Clyde touches his ribs. 

Stensland previously has had some sex that he would classify as Great Sex (™). The type Cosmopolitan would have an article on how to achieve, the type that makes your legs jelly and you need a smoke after.

This is something else.

Stensland is on his back, legs wrapped around Clyde. He’s pretty sure his hair is a total nest, and he’s sweating and panting, flushed all over. Time has no meaning anymore, but Clyde keeps working him, slow rolls of his hips again and again until Stensland can’t take it anymore. Stensland’s come twice already, once barely minutes after getting to the bedroom, when Clyde went down on him (Stensland’s not ashamed about how quick he came, Clyde’s mouth had been  _ perfect _ ), then again on Clyde’s dick about 20 minutes previously, while he had held himself up on wobbly arms.

“Ready to come for me, darlin’?”

Stensland makes a noise that he hopes sounds affirmative and Clyde’s fucking him in earnest now and it’s so so good he feels he can’t breathe, Clyde’s body anchoring him down.

Then Stensland is somehow coming again, weak pulses going through his body as Clyde jerks him through it, and he spills onto his belly and Clyde grunts and comes too.

**8 -**

Stensland has fallen in love, at first sight, many, many times.

Clyde Logan was not one of these times. 

But he was the last. 


End file.
